


Scenes from a Childhood on Pyke

by bluebright_l



Series: The Pursued, the Pursuing - AU [16]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 18:05:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/677295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebright_l/pseuds/bluebright_l
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scenes from Theon's childhood, set in our Prohibition-era AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The faint sound of music drifted up to the upper floors of the ramshackle mansion on Pyke, first becoming a part of the little boy’s dreams, and then gently plucking him from sleep. Theon sat up and rubbed his eyes, confused; music was not often heard on Pyke, though his mother would sometimes sing to him quietly at night. He considered sneaking down the hall to Asha’s room, but the prospect of waking her wasn’t an appealing one...his sister did love her sleep. He didn’t even consider waking his brothers up...he knew better than that, even at age four. Instead, Theon crept down the hall and lingered at the top of the stairs, uncertain. The music was louder now, though still quiet.  
  
Slowly, carefully, he padded down the stairs, placing his feet at the edges of each step and clinging to the dark balustrade. Stealth was a habit one came by as easily as breathing in the Greyjoy household, and soon Theon had reached the bottom of the stairs. The soles of his pajama feet were dusty, and a dank smell tickled his nose. The music seemed to be coming from the drawing room at the front of the house, the one with the fancy furniture and large picture window looking out onto the bay. Creeping forward, he stayed in the shadows at the edges of the wide hall, murky portraits of Greyjoys past staring down at him. He hurried past the one of his uncle Urri, who had died as a boy. Theon’s brothers had once told him that Urri’s ghost haunted the island, and that the sound of the wind moaning through the shutters was him trying to get back into the mansion. Terrified, he hadn’t been able to walk past the portrait since, taking that part of the hallway at a dead run now, as he always did.  
  
Skidding to a stop just outside the drawing room, he held his breath and shuffled towards the cracked door. The light spilling out from within was diffuse, clearly candlelight instead of a lamp. Theon had heard his mother and father talking about running electricity out to the island, but it hadn’t happened as of yet. He wondered how they would get the wires across the water, but he figured if anyone could do it, his father could. A hard, cold man, Balon Greyjoy was known for being able to solve any problem, usually by less-than-savory means, although all Theon knew was that his father was the boss, and that was that.  
  
So when he peeked through the space between the door and frame, what he saw was beyond confusing. There was a new piece of furniture in the room, a large cabinet with a horn protruding from it, but as odd as that was, it paled beside the rest of the scene. His mother and father were... Theon blinked, pushing a fall of black hair back from his eyes. He wished his mother would cut it again soon, but all the Greyjoy men wore their hair long, and so he did, too. What _were_ they doing?  
  
Swaying to the music, his father had an arm wrapped around his mother’s slim waist, holding her closer than Theon had ever seen before. Her fine, blonde hair, usually pinned up in a crown of braids, was loose to her waist, and Theon could see his father twisting it in his thin fingers as if it were made of silk.  
  
“You didn’t have to do this, Balon...” His mother’s voice was soft and low, familiar to him as his own reflection.  
  
Both of his parent’s faces were in profile, but Theon could see the slightest hint of a smile on his father’s face, a bizarre sight in and of itself. “No. But I wanted to, after...” He broke off, shaking his head once. “You do like it, don’t you?”  
  
Theon held his breath. Even if she didn’t like it, he hoped his mother would say yes...‘no’ was not a word Balon Greyjoy was accustomed to hearing. But he had nothing to worry about, he saw now. The smile that lit up his mother’s face was brilliant, and he felt a twinge of jealousy that his father was the recipient of such a loving expression.  
  
“You know I do,” she told him, resting her cheek on his as they moved together, his father more graceful than Theon ever would’ve thought possible. “Thank you, love. It’s been too long since we’ve danced...”   
  
Dancing. So _that’s_ what this was...Theon had heard of it, of course, but he’d never imagined his father, of all people, dancing. As the music wound down, his father tilted his mother’s face up and kissed her, a long, lingering kiss that was completely unlike the gentle peck his mother gave him every night when she tucked him into bed. Theon shifted uncomfortably, backing away from the door and into the shadows of the hallway. From his now slightly obstructed view, he could see his father’s hands stroking his mother’s hair, and heard him say her name with a low sigh. “Alannys...”   
  
It was the first time Theon could ever recall his father calling his mother by name. Usually it was ‘woman’, or ‘wife’ if he was in a particularly good mood. The music was slowing now, and fading away, but his parents continued to sway together, their bodies moving in concert to a melody only they could hear. Tiptoeing back towards the stairs, Theon wondered if this meant he was going to have a baby brother or sister...they had kissed, and Asha’d told him once that he was born after she spied their parents kissing in the kitchen.   
  
Pausing at the foot of the stairs, Theon cocked his head and listened as an odd whirring sound filled the darkened hallway, followed by another strain of soft piano music. He hoped he would get a baby sister, if anything. He liked Asha best out of all his siblings, and he knew he would be a better brother than Rodrik or Maron. Staying to the edges of the steps, he made his way back up to the second floor and crept down the hall to Asha’s room - she had more blankets than him, and a bigger bed, too. It was easy as pie to climb in beside her and snuggle close, tucking his head under his sister’s sharp chin. She wrapped her arms around him, her breath hot in his hair, and between her warmth and the music drifting up the stairs, Theon was asleep again in minutes.


	2. Chapter 2

Theon flipped his pillow over miserably, tugging his blankets and quilts closer with a disgruntled huff. He was wracked with shivers, freezing as the winter winds whistled through the cracks in between his window and the wall. He could see his breath every time he poked his head out from under the blanket, but he was too scared to go downstairs. His mother and Asha were gone to Harlaw, visiting his sick aunt, and Rodrik and Maron were on the mainland...his father and uncles were having Poker Night downstairs, and Theon was loathe to interrupt them.  
  
Finally, he couldn’t take it any more. After a sneezing fit that left him breathless and aching, Theon stumbled out of bed and down the stairs, not bothering to sneak at all. He heard the Victrola playing in the drawing room, and for one dizzy moment he thought his mother had come back. But when he saw the cloud of blue-grey haze drifting out of the room, he knew it was just his father and uncles having a drink and a smoke. Not bothering to hide his disappointment, Theon pushed the door open, blinking as the smoky air stung his eyes.  
  
“Pa?” He could see his father sitting in an easy chair by the fire, but Balon didn’t acknowledge him. He was deep in discussion with Uncle Euron and Uncle Victarion, both of whom looked somber. “I don’t feel good, Pa.”  
  
Uncle Aeron, sprawled out on a stiff couch closest to the door, sat up at Theon’s words. “Oi, sprog. C’mere a second.” Aeron was his favorite uncle, always good for a joke or a doodled octopus on his dinner napkin, and Theon went to him willingly.  
  
“It’s so c-cold, Uncle Aeron.” He hiked his quilt up around his shoulders, standing between his uncle’s outstretched legs. “I’m all cold and achy.”  
  
“Let’s see.” Aeron put a thin hand on his forehead, brushing his hair back and frowning. “I don’t know...” In the next moment, he’d cupped the back of Theon’s head gently, and pressed his lips to his forehead. Unused to such displays of affection, Theon stood stock-still, wrinkling his nose at the feel of his uncle’s scratchy beard. “Damn, you’re hot as an oven, boy. Balon, you hear me? He’s burnin’ up.”  
  
Aeron pulled Theon a bit closer, his cheek resting on the boy’s forehead as he looked over his head towards Balon. Suddenly, Theon could feel the coolness of his uncle’s skin, and just how hot his own was in comparison. But he was still shaking under his quilt, the cold from the iced-over bay seeming to seep into his bones and freeze him from the inside out.  
  
“Bring ‘im here, and call for a girl to make ‘im some tea,” Balon waved a hand vaguely, sharp grey eyes never leaving the paper Euron was showing him. “Tell her to bring the whole pot, why don’t ya. Cold as a witch’s tit in here...” He trailed off, taking the paper from Euron’s hand and examining it closer.  
  
In a move that surprised Theon, his uncle Aeron scooped him up, quilt and all, and crossed the room, depositing him on his father’s lap. “There ya go, pal. Now, let’s see about some tea...” Whistling a jaunty tune, he left the room to find a servant somewhere within the massive, crumbling wreck that was Pyke.  
  
Theon was in complete shock. Although he was only five years old, he couldn’t remember a time when he’d been this close to his father. Balon handed the paper back to Euron and pressed a dry hand to his son’s forehead, frowning absently. “Tea’ll help,” he said gruffly, settling Theon against his chest as he leaned back in the chair. “Anyway, Vic, you were saying the Mallisters are getting a little big for their britches? Those goddamn greenlanders...”  
  
The fire crackled noisily in the hearth, but its warmth didn’t seem to reach Theon at all. He watched and listened listlessly as his Uncle Vic nodded with a sigh. “Them, the Lannisters, that damned Baratheon is makin’ noise again, stirrin’ up trouble for us with his pal Stark. It’s a fuckin’ mess, brother, and it’s only gonna get worse.” Finally, Theon relaxed a bit as his father stroked a hand down his back absentmindedly, listening to Vic.  
  
Uncle Vic sounded tired, and the dark circles under his eyes only served to prove the point. Theon knew something had happened recently...Aunt Clara had had a baby in her belly, and then all of a sudden it was gone, and so was she. All his mother had said was that the Drowned God had taken them both, and that Uncle Vic would be staying with them for a while. That meant all four of the Greyjoy brothers were living under the same roof again, a fact which even Theon, at five, knew could mean trouble.  
  
But tonight, they all seemed to be getting along swimmingly. In fact, Euron, who was sipping a tall Scotch, handed Vic his drink and clapped a hand on his shoulder bracingly. “There’s no use in worrying about it right now, brother. They won’t move until spring, at the earliest, and we’ll have something in place by then. Just have a drink and relax, why don’t you?” Vic drained the glass in one long gulp and scrubbed a hand over his face wordlessly, ignoring Euron’s sharp half-smile. “There you go. Now just lay back and relax,” he said, wrapping an arm around Vic’s shoulders and pulling him down onto the couch.  
  
It was all Theon could do to not to gape, even as dull-witted as he was at the moment. Uncle Vic just laid his head on Uncle Euron’s lap, and closed his eyes, feet hanging over the arm of the couch. More often than not, the two of them were a hair’s breadth from exchanging blows over something or another, but tonight Euron’s hands were gentle as he brushed his brother’s hair back, the flecks of grey in it catching the lamplight.  
  
Vic sighed, his eyes still closed, and went on. “Whatever you two decide, of course.” He cracked an eye, glancing at his oldest brother. “You don’t mind if I stay here for a few more months, do you? Say, the kid looks pretty bad, Balon...” Theon thought his voice sounded funny...sad, almost, but rough, too.  
  
“He’s fine,” Theon’s father said, adjusting him slightly on his lap and tucking the quilt closer. “Where’s Aeron gotten to with the tea, damnit?”  
  
Euron snorted. “Probably fucking one of the pantry maids while the kettle whistles.” He grinned down at Vic, who was snickering. “Or pissing out another fire...”  
  
Theon glanced up at his father, who was frowning. “Did Uncle Aeron really p-piss out a fire, Pa? Did you _see_ it?”  
  
“He did,” Balon said gruffly. “The fool boy. I didn’t see it, but your uncles there did.” He nodded at Euron and Victarion on the couch. “Bet his boat he could do it, too.”  
  
Even at five, Theon knew that was close to sacrilege in the Greyjoy family, but his father and uncles tolerated Aeron’s wild behavior to a certain extent. Uncle Euron, especially, seemed amused by it. “Pulled his cock out and pissed right in old Botley’s hearth, he did. And you know what Luc Botley put up against his boat?” Theon shook his head wordlessly. His Uncle Euron scared him a bit with his too-bright blue eyes, so unlike the rest of the family’s, but tonight Theon felt safe in his father’s lap, just one of the men, sitting around shooting the shit. “Tell ‘im, Vic.” Euron poked his brother in the side, and Vic grunted.  
  
“A goddamn herd of goats. He put his brand new speedboat up against a herd of fucking fainting goats.” He glanced at Theon, who was trying to hide a giggle behind his hand. “You ever seen a fainting goat, kid?  
  
“Nope,” Theon’s laugh turned into a cough, and he buried his face against his father’s chest until the coughing subsided. “Do they really faint?”  
  
“They sure do,” Aeron said as he came back into the room, balancing a teapot, five mugs and a plate of cookies all on a tray. “Keel right over like a lady with a too-tight corset. Cute little buggers. Your Uncle Euron hates ‘em somethin’ fierce, though...” He winked at Theon and set the tray down, pouring tea for them all.  
  
“Have you ever seen their eyes?” Euron asked mildly, still stroking Vic’s hair. “Their pupils are all wrong...rectangles instead of circles. And those pointy little hooves...” He shook his head. “They say the Devil has goat’s hooves.”  
  
“Ah, the Devil knows better than to fuck with a Greyjoy,” Aeron replied. “And I _liked_ those fainting goats.”  
  
Theon took a steaming mug from his Uncle Aeron, cupping his hands around it and relishing the warmth. “But you won,” he said with a grin. “There’s no goats on Pyke-”  
  
“Thank the Drowned God,” Euron muttered, taking a mug from his brother and resting it on Vic’s broad chest as if it were an end table. A stack of cookies followed, and he frowned when Vic snagged one and popped the whole thing in his mouth. “Manners, brother.”  
  
They sat and sipped tea in silence for a while, the dry wood on the fire popping and hissing fitfully. Vic’s eyes were closed again, but Theon could tell he wasn’t sleeping...something about the look on his face made Theon wonder if he was thinking about Aunt Clara and the baby in her belly. Drowsily, he wondered if Uncle Vic would marry again, or if any of his other uncles would ever find wives. He hoped they would...having cousins to play with would be nice.  
  
“You fallin’ asleep there, squirt?” Aeron sat forward, waving a hand in front of Theon’s face.  
  
“Kinda...” Theon shrugged, struggling to keep his eyes open. Dimly, he felt his father’s lips press briefly against the top of his head. It was the first time he could ever remember his father kissing him. “The tea helped a little.” He still felt achy, but the coldness deep in his bones had subsided and it was easier to breathe.  
  
“If you’re falling asleep, go back to bed,” Balon said, nudging Theon to his feet. “We’ve still got business to discuss.”  
  
“But it’s so cold up there...” Theon bit his lip. He’d never dared talk back to his father before, and Balon’s frown sent a shiver through him, but he didn’t think he could stand to go back to that cold room. “Can’t I just stay here on the couch, Pa? Or sleep in Asha’s bed, maybe?”  
  
Vic cracked an eye again. “Put ‘im in my room, it’s hotter’n Satan’s balls in there the way the maid keeps the fire stoked.” He tossed his last cookie at Theon, who had to drop his quilt-cape to catch it. “I’ll take your room, the cold don’t bother me any.”  
  
Pausing with the cookie halfway to his mouth, Theon blinked. He wasn’t at all sure Uncle Vic would _fit_ in his bed. “I...are you sure, Uncle Vic?”  
  
“Don’t spoil the boy, Victarion,” Theon’s father said sternly. “He needs to toughen up. The cold never hurt us as children.”  
  
Euron snorted. “Because we all huddled together in one bed like a pack of dogs.” He winked at Theon. “You go on and take the warm room...Vic and I’ll bunk up until you’re feeling better. I don’t think he’d fit in your bed, do you?”  
  
They all looked at Vic’s feet, hanging over the edge of the couch, and Theon laughed uncertainly. A shadow had flashed across his Uncle Aeron’s face, but his rakish grin quickly returned. “C’mon then, kid. I’ll take ya down there...let’s leave these old fogies to their plotting.” Before Theon could reply, Aeron bundled him back up in his quilt and hefted him like a sack of potatoes. “Say good night.”  
  
“Night, Pa. Night, Uncle Euron. Night, Uncle Vic.”  
  
None of them replied, and Uncle Aeron closed the door on them gently. Vic’s room was down close to the kitchens, and true to his word, the fire was blazing away when they got there. “Goddamn, he wasn’t lying, was he?” Aeron plopped Theon down on the big bed and piled blankets over him carelessly. “Alright, get some sleep.  
  
Theon cuddled down into the big, unfamiliar bed. It smelled like Uncle Vic, like cigar smoke and salt water with a hint of spicy cologne. “Night, Uncle Aeron.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Hurry up, you little squirt, or we’re leaving without you!”  
  
Theon hurriedly capped off his canteen and ran out the back door of Pyke, the screen door banging hehind him as the cook yelled something unintelligible. When Rodrik and Maron had invited him to go out with them on Rodrik’s new boat, Theon had been scared to say yes, but more scared of telling them no. Which was how he came to be sprinting down the path to the cove, half-hoping they _would_ leave without him.  
  
Fortunately, or not, his brothers were waiting for him at the dock, Rodrik untying his boat carefully while Maron smoked a cigarette and watched. The new speedboat was beautiful, sleek and shining in the sun, and Theon crept closer, wanting a better look.  
  
“She’s a beaut, huh?” Maron flicked his cigarette butt in the water casually, taking the line from his older brother and winding it around a post. “Pa says she’ll beat anything in the water.”  
  
Theon nodded wordlessly, watching the early morning sun reflect off the water and the shining mahogany hull of the boat. He wondered when he would get his first boat...Asha had gotten hers only a few years past, and he was five years younger than her. Even though he knew his first boat would be a small sailboat, nothing like this beautiful marvel of a watercraft, it didn’t stop Theon from daydreaming about the day he’d have a boat like this and work with his father, uncles and brothers, doing...whatever it was they did. He was fuzzy on the details, but he knew it was dangerous and exciting, which was enough for him.  
  
“Ah, Pa’s full’a shit. Everyone knows Uncle Euron’s _Silence_ is the fastest thing in the water, and Uncle Vic has more horsepower than either of you in the _Iron Victory_.” Rodrik whistled through his teeth at Theon. “Permission to come aboard, squirt. Hop to it.”   
  
No sooner had he climbed aboard than his brother gunned the engine, laughing at the way Theon was thrown back against the seat. Rodrik piloted the boat recklessly, steering through the rocky cove with just a few fingers on the wheel, his other arm slung heavily over the back of the seat. His fingertips just brushed one of Theon’s shoulders, and the physical contact was almost enough to distract him from the terrifying possibility that they might crash on one of the submerged rocks of the cove. His brothers never played with him, or ruffled his hair like Asha; if they touched him at all, it was usually to give him a smack on the ear or push him out of the room.  
  
By the time they made it out of the cove and into the wide open waters of the bay, Theon’s nerves were fairly singing with anxiety. He was sandwiched tightly between Rodrik and Maron, their long legs pressed up against his short ones, and he didn’t know what to do with his hands or if he was hiding his fear well enough. He’d never been seasick before in his life, but he could feel his stomach churning restlessly.  
  
“Oi, lookit the squirt!” Maron yelled over his head to Rodrik. “He’s comin’ over all green!”   
  
“I am not! I-” The boat crested another wave, and Theon clapped a hand over his mouth, stifling the ‘urk’ that had been about to pop out.   
  
Rodrik laughed, but slowed down, bringing the boat about in a sweeping curve. “If you upchuck in my new boat, you’ll regret it. Understand?” Theon nodded eagerly, and Rodrik cuffed him on the back of the head. “Good. Now, let’s go buzz the Botleys, yeah?”  
  
The waters around Lordsport Point were shallow and rocky, a fact Theon was infinitely grateful for, as it forced his brother to slow down. There were a smattering of goats grazing on one rocky hill near the shore, and a few men down at the docks working on what looked like a flat-bottomed riverboat. It was hard to tell from a distance, but he thought he saw Tris Botley among them. Tris was Asha’s age, and nicer to Theon than any of his siblings. One time, he had even taken Theon out on his sailboat and let him steer, even after Asha had told him not to.  
  
“Think they’ll have ‘er ready in time?” Rodrik spoke over Theon’s head.  
  
Maron squinted at the men working, then shrugged one shoulder. “They better. It looks like it’s comin’ along, but you never know...that hull was scraped up somethin’ fierce. And it looks like they got Tris workin’ down there with them, which is prob’ly more trouble than it’s worth.”  
  
“He’s gotta learn sometime,” Rodrik replied. He goosed the throttle a bit, and the men on shore all looked up at the roar of the engine. The one Theon thought was Tris, the thin one with a dark swath of messy hair, raised a hand in greeting. The rest of them went back to work. Rodrik and Maron both laughed, but Theon didn’t get the joke. “They’ll be ready.”  
  
“We should bring a goat back for Uncle Euron!” he blurted out, suddenly desperate to be in on their laughter.  
  
“Ha! That’d be a good one, alright!” Maron grinned at him, teeth white and even in his suntanned face. Theon smiled back tentatively.  
  
“And get goat shit all over my brand new boat? I don’t think so, boys.” Rodrik snorted. “Besides, have you ever tried to catch a goat?” He was steering them away from Lordsport and headed back for the open bay. The boat began to skip over the crests of waves and plow through the troughs, drenching them with seaspray. “They’re spry little buggers.”  
  
“Remember that time you dared Lefty Codd...”  
  
Maron began some story about Rodrik daring Lefty to put a goat in Euron’s bedroom, but Theon was too sick to concentrate on the conversation. He was breathing deeply through his nose and trying to focus on the horizon, but it was hard when they were zigzagging across the bay at such a breakneck speed.  
  
They were out in front of Pyke now, close enough that Theon could see his mother standing on the long front porch. Her pale blonde hair was loose, whipping in the wind like a flag, and she was shielding her eyes with a hand. He wondered if she was watching for them, or for their father. Balon rarely left the island, but he’d been gone for days at a stretch recently, and Theon had noticed the way his mother would twitch back curtains to look out to the bay.  
  
The boat turned sharply, and he lost sight of his mother and Pyke. “Hang on!” Rodrik yelled, and Theon saw they were speeding towards one of the massive freighters that loaded and unloaded in Kingsport daily. His stomach clenched, and he found himself clutching Maron’s shoulder tightly. At the last possible second, Rodrik spun the wheel with a whoop and they hit the freighter’s wake instead of its hull. The boat skipped across the water like a flat stone, and Theon lost what little self-control he had left.  
  
“Goddamnit, Theon!” Maron shoved him towards Rodrik and began unbuttoning his vomit-splattered shirt.  
  
“What the...” Slowing down, Rodrik looked over and scowled. “I _told_ you not to upchuck, didn’t I? Ugh, you’ve got it everywhere...”  
  
Maron tossed his shirt over the side of the boat, then scooped up a handful of water and splashed it across his face and in his hair. “It’s all in the bottom there...I hope you realize you’re cleaning this up when we get back, kid.”  
  
“I couldn’t help it!” Theon protested, surprising himself. He never talked back, especially not to his brothers. “I swear!”  
  
“A real Greyjoy would never get seasick,” Rodrik said. His voice was quiet now, dangerously so. Theon felt like he might vomit again. “Isn’t that right, Maron?”  
  
“Damn straight.”  
  
“I think he needs to be taught a lesson, what about you?”  
  
Theon held his breath, terrified now. He’d been on the receiving end of his brothers’ lessons before, but never out in the middle of the bay, with no mother or Asha to intervene. Sometimes Maron would talk Rodrik out of such a ‘lesson’, casually, as if he didn’t care either way. But not often enough...and Theon seriously doubted he would today, after he’d just washed vomit out of his hair.  
  
“Yeah, I think he probably does,” Maron said, confirming Theon’s assumption. “What’d you have in mind?”  
  
“A swim,” Rodrik said. The boat was stopped now, floating on the current. They were in front of Pyke again, further out than before. “A nice, long swim, to help him clean off.”  
  
“No!” Theon cried out before he could stop himself. “Rodrik, no! I’ll clean it up when we get back, I promise!”  
  
“When _you_ get back, you mean.” Maron was hauling Theon over his lap by the collar of his shirt now, and Rodrik smiled. It was a shark’s smile, sharp and dangerous. “I’d make for the cliffside docks, if I were you. The cove’s no joke when the tide’s going out, and it’s all the way on the other side of the island, besides.”  
  
Theon opened his mouth to protest again, but this time it was filled with the brackish water of the bay. Maron had dumped him over the side with no more care than he’d show a sack of flour. He kicked his shoes off immediately, conscious of how heavy they would get once waterlogged, and came up coughing. By the time he’d managed to catch his breath, they were gone, leaving him bobbing in their wake.  
  
There was nothing left to do but swim, so he set to it. As he swam, he imagined himself as a grown man, defending himself against his brothers. With each stroke, each kick, he smashed Maron’s bold grin and knocked Rodrik to the ground. Pyke wasn’t far, and Theon was a strong swimmer for a young boy, but the bay fought against him every watery inch of the way.   
  
By the time the dock was in sight, he was so exhausted he didn’t know if he’d be able to pull himself up out of the water. Theon was trying to decide if it would be easier to just swim right up to the rocks and crawl up on one of the bigger ones to rest, when he saw a figure hurrying down the end of the dock.  
  
“Theon! C’mon, right here!”   
  
He’d never been so happy to see Asha in his entire life. She held a hand out to him, and then he was on the dock, hot and splintery and solid and wonderful. He thought he might be crying, but it was hard to tell with water streaming out of his hair and down his face. Asha sat down next to him, pushing his wet hair out of his face.  
  
“Alright then, baby brother?” Theon just nodded, still trying to catch his breath, and she went on. “They knew you could make it, y’know. The bastards. I know it was scary, but they knew you’d be all right. What’d you do?”  
  
“Upchucked in R-rodrik’s new boat.” He scooted a bit closer to her, and Asha put an arm around him. He felt her shaking a little, and he hoped she wasn’t laughing at him, but he didn’t want to look and see. “But he crossed a freighter wake!”  
  
“Rodrik...” Asha sighed, then stood. “You never should’ve went out with them in the first place. C’mon, let’s go get you dried off.” She gave him a hand up, and didn’t let go until they’d made it up the cliffside trail.


End file.
